Moral Disorder
by Ryous lil Tenshi
Summary: The 'punishment' of an honest juror. Ryou's life is shattered when he is forced to witness the rape and murder of his mother and sister. Upon receiving the Sennen Ring at ten, Ryou's body becomes Bakura's machine, bent on bloodthirsty and savage revenge.


Well, yes. New fic yay!

And I'm warning everyone in advace: This is dark. Real dark. So if you're looking for some sort of shota hurt/comfort fluff...

ew.

Well, you won't find it here anyway.

The title is also not mine, just like the fandom LOL. But everyone steals titles so bring ont he lawsuit (jokes)

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all here.

* * *

"All right, everybody gather for a photo!"

The room was large, hung with chandeliers and heavy crimson drapery. The carpet was thick and soft, the tables covered in spotless white linen, the walls a warm, inviting, yet formal pale cream. It was an affair of bespectacled men in brown suits, inquisitive journalists with small notepads, smiling, stiff-backed wives, and a few slumped forms of apathetic children.

_I want to go home..._

Ryou's arms were crossed, chin resting on his suit sleeves, his plane of vision narrowed by both the smart grey fabric and the white bangs dripping into his eyes. He blew at the snowy strands boredly, his eyes following the tiny moist breeze.

He found his mother, shaking the hand of a suede-dressed man with a shiny dome of a scalp. Her lipsticked mouth was stretched nervously, soft, doe-brown eyes darting from side to side a little. Like her husband, she was not yet used to such formal occasions.

As usual, Amane had stolen the show. She had immersed herself in a tiny cluster of college professors, clinging to the fluted glass of orange juice with robins' egg-tipped fingers, the same shade of her modest-but-dressy cocktail dress, with the delicate grasp of one who was drinking the finest champagne. With the other hand, she gestured, reaffirming what words emitted from pale glossed lips. The men were smiling, a few chuckling. Ryou momentarily wondered what she was uttering.

His father was perhaps in the least interesting situation of all, talking quietly to one of his work colleagues, probably about the magnificent discovery and subsequent historical theory that made the archaeological team so famous. Ryou groaned, and buried his face in his arms, bored almost to tears.

He was too young for such occasions, his mother had argued. Amane, graced with the silver tongue, quick wit, and steely resolve of her father, had outstanding social skills, able to integrate herself into any crowd, regardless of age or gender, had demanded, insisted, that she attended the function. But although Ryou was bright, yet shy, had an amicable demeanour, he wasn't mature enough to attend such a function. Why not just leave him at home with a sitter? His father had protested that the invitation was for his family, and that included his nine-year-old son, so to make the best impression on some of the most influential and scholarly minds in the field of Archaeology, he must go.

A disastrous mistake.

"There you are, Ryou." He looked up, to see his father's archaeological partner smiling down at him. "The _Guardian_ wants a photo for their culture page. Hurry up."

"All right." He climbed down from the seat, weaving his way through the tight clusters of people to his mother and father. Rebecca Bakura smiled at him as he approached the wedded couple, ruffling his untrimmed locks affectionately. "Mum!" Ryou protested, readjusting his hair. "You know I hate that."

"Oh, Ryou, shut up." Amane shot her younger brother a cheeky smile, and patted at _her_ own hair, an affair of lose white curls and pale blue ribbons, making sure it was still in perfect place. Aware that she would be proudly displaying his newspaper clipping at school the next morning, she smoothed out her dress before standing in front of her father.

"Awh, you look so adorable, all of you!" The journalist beamed. "Now, give us all a big smile!" Ryou forced a weak grin, as stiff and false as porcelain, forcing himself to focus on the staring, blank eye of the camera lens. "And another one, just in case." Two quick flashes, and the journalist nodded, before moving on.

"Ah, Mr. Bakura!" Before Yaten could talk a step, a man Ryou didn't recognize offered his hand to his father. He took it, eyes wide in awe. This was obviously someone very important. "I'm very glad to see you are here tonight. And I see you brought your family!"

"Certainly did, Mr. Jenkins." Yaten swallowed, somewhat nervously, his Adam's apple shifting. "This is my wife Rebecca, my daughter Amane, and my son Ryou."

"Nice to meet you." Amane turned on the charm like a faucet, extending her modestly-ringed hand, which was shaken.

"Nice to meet you too." He nodded. "How old are you, Amane?"

"Almost fourteen." Amane broke into another smile.

"You're lucky Yaten!" The man chuckled. "When my daughter was that age, she was the sulkiest nightmare to torment mankind." The ice broken, Yaten let out a long breath, and intuitively, Rebecca took the hands of her children.

"Come on, kids, let's say hello to Katherine, I've been meaning to catch up all night..." She hurried her children away furtively, casting a glance back to the man wide-eyed.

"Mum, who is that?" Amane whispered hurriedly as the grip on her wrist was released.

"That's the Chancellor of Oxford University." She breathed in a soft reply. "This must have something to do with the Professor of Egyptology at the University announcing retirement next year..."

"No way!" Amane breathed excitedly. "Dad? At Oxford?"

"Hush, Amane, I don't know." Ryou drifted away from the whispering females, glancing around the room in utter apathetic despair. Oh, how he _wished_ he'd stayed at home! He stared back up at the ceiling, a collection of crystal raindrops with lamp-gold haloes for a moment, before even that bored him, and he was forced back to his table, to sit on the oak-framed chair, quilted with red velvet plush. His fathers' speaker notes were still resting on the white linen tabletop, across from him. Ryou reached out, and seized the rubber-banded clutch of cards, toying with them in his fingers. The speech had been uttered half an hour before, but Ryou remembered just a few phrases of speech, and the topic – his father had been working on both the speech and the paper for weeks almost non-stop. Who knew that everyone would be so excited about some old sort of plough turning up a thousand years before it's estimated inception?

"You all right, Ryou?" Amane plonked herself down on the chair beside Ryou, glad to have the pressure eased from her feet, which were starting to ache in delicate high-heeled shoes. "You look miserable."

"Just bored." Ryou sighed. "How can you find this so _interesting?" _Amane shrugged, lolling her head back slightly in the chair.

"You kiddin'? The _Guardian _took my picture! I made one of the biggest papers in England at thirteen! Oh, everyone's gonna be _so_ jealous tomorrow! Especially that _cow_, Angela Stevenson, little miss 'oh my father-"

"-Amane." Ryou interrupted the girl, raising a snowy eyebrow. Amane nodded, and scratched at the back of her head, dexterously, trying not to displace any of her perfectly knotted blue ribbons. "Ugh. How much_ longer_ do we have to be here for?"

"I dunno, until Dad reckons he's pushed his report enough? C'mon, Ryou, this is fun! Would you rather be at home on your bum, watching T.V?"

"Yes." Ryou blew at his bangs again, a symbol of his frustration. "This is just so _boring_, don't you think?"

"Well, _I _don't think it is." She sounded just a little smug. "Tell you what." She reached out, and snatched a hold of her satin purse, a pristine shade of crisp white, and quite large. She unclipped it carefully, and rifled amongst the contents for a moment. Ryou's eyes lit up as his older sister cautiously extracted her prized Minidisc player, handing it over to the boy as though it was made of paper-thin glass. "You can listen to my MD." A very expensive birthday present from her parents, not-yet available in England, and hideously expensive, Amane almost never let anyone else handle the precious piece of technology. "But be _careful,_ for Christs' sake."

"I will!" Ryou said excitedly as the hand-sized piece of plastic was placed into his hands. "_Thank_ you!" He carefully unwound the black headphones from the square silver plastic, jamming the little earbuds into his ears. Amane shook her head and snorted, before standing up and straying from the table, drifting towards her mother and small cluster of acquaintances. _All right!_ He pushed the 'on' button, and waited for it to load, before pushing 'play'. He wasn't sure what disc was in it, but at that point, he was so bored, he decided to just let the music play through. It was a mixed disc, of the current Britpop trends that Amane enjoyed, Blur, Oasis, Supergrass, and Radiohead, amongst other clusters of twenty-something men, with heavy guitar riffs, catchy hooks, and dulcet tones that defined British music of the mid 1990's. Although most of the lyrics went right over Ryou's immature mind, it was pleasant enough to listen to, and Ryou liked it more than Amane's other musical taste, the bright, upbeat, almost shrill melodies of J-Pop.

It was one of those hits, that he sometimes heard on the radio. Ryou brightened, and hummed quietly along, vaguely aware of the melody, eyes closed. Who was it again? Blur? He looked at the tiny screen. Oasis. He winced. _Oh well, it all sounds the same to me... Not that I'll say that to Amane, she would beat the snot out of me._

He rested his chin on folded arms again, and quietly watched his sister. It was strange, to think that this young woman telling a joke to a group of giggling women was the same girl who usually donned jeans and faded music tee-shirts with dirty sneakers. How was it that she was able to undergo such a metamorphosis, whilst Ryou was consistently trapped inside this quiet, shy shell? He was jealous. _I've always been such a shy, quiet little wimp. I'm lucky I had her to stick up for me at school when I was little._ Not that he would ever mention it to Amane, but Ryou was, once again, experiencing bullies at his expensive public school. It wasn't anything too awful, just a little name-calling and hair-pulling. Ryou had endured worse, younger. And anyway, as his mother reminded him, they were just jealous – or, they would be soon.

"_What do you mean, Mum? Why would they be jealous?"_

"_Because, you're going to grow up and be such a handsome young man. Girls are going to fall all over you, and there's nothing they can do about it."_

"_Aw, Mum, don't say that, it's just embarrassing!"_

"_I'm serious. Besides, don't listen to those bullies. They only try to hurt you because they are hurting themselves, inside."_

Ryou wondered if that was true – Tommy Johnson didn't seem to have much to be hurting about, after all, and recently he'd started picking on him nearly every day. Still, Ryou bore the taunts calmly and stoically, trying to act as thought such teasing did not affect him – but, in effect, it had already caused significant psychological damage – He was quite a shy and isolated young boy, reluctant to make friends, despite his demeanour.

Letting the music weave with distracted, fragmented thoughts through his mind, Ryou quietly waited in his seat, undisturbed, waiting for his parents and sister to finish their incandescent socialising.

* * *

The night was cold.

Ryou buried his hands inside the pockets of his smart suit, wishing he had a proper jacket. But no matter, they would be in the car soon enough, ready to sink into the sweet, warm embrace of the heater. On his left, Amane had it worse, only a little white shawl draped over her shoulders to keep her warm. She shifted her weight, from left foot to right, the balls of her feet, and toes, aching. True, she looked _so_ grown-up and formal, but high heels did hurt her feet. She doubted she would wear them again.

"Oh, c'mon!" Amane called out, her teeth chattering as she waited with her younger sibling beside their Volkswagen sedan, rubbing at her arms. It was past midnight, and Ryou was dead on his feet, exhausted. _At least I don't have to go to school tomorrow_. He mused, leaning against the right passenger window. "Mum! Dad!" They were talking, of course, with Yaten Bakura's work partners, who were discussing attending a night club in a rare celebration of their success, and wouldn't Yaten come? After all, he _was_ the head of the team... But no, they really must get home... Oh, Yaten, go and have fun. I can take the children home. You deserve this... Oh, if you _insist_...

"Where's Dad?" Amane frowned as Rebecca unlocked the car.

"He's going to stay with his workmates to celebrate." Her mother explained, opening the drivers' door, and sliding inside.

"Oh... I call shotgun!" Amane gleefully opened the car door and flung herself inside, stretching out in the seat, enjoying the sweet sensation of the easing pressure in her feet. "Yess!"

"Yeah, yeah." Ryou mumbled sleepily as he crawled into the car, relaxing against the plush grey interior. "Can we just go home please?"

"Aw, someone's tired." Rebecca smiled lovingly at her son. "Of course, Ryou. We'll be home as soon as possible." She referred to their pretty, semi-detached house in the suburban area of London, complete with emerald grass and low fence. Expensive, but Yaten and Rebecca agreed it was 'best for the children', despite the hefty price tag.

"Good." Ryou mumbled, his eye-lids already drooping. Rebecca smoothly pulled the car from the parking lot, and onto the road, which, being almost 1AM and on a weeknight, was almost empty. Rebecca and Amane spoke quietly about the night, as not to wake Ryou – gossiping about what other women wore, the frosty attitudes between Mr. And Mrs. Dawkins, Yaten's speech, his offered professorship (Rebecca was right, after all) the lovely food, how Amane must _never_ speak of the glass of wine she drank to her father, and the like. A pleasant, if empty conversation.

They were driving though a bad part of London - Hackney, to be exact. It was not particularly clever, but it was sadly the quickest route to their house, and Rebecca was very time-conscious, her own fatigue settling in. However, as she was driving down one of the main roads of the borough, her worst fear occurred – the car spluttered, and died.

"What's going on?" Amane turned and asked her mother as the car rolled to a stop, Rebecca managing to pull over before the car was completely immobile. "What happened?"

"Not sure." Rebecca said slowly. "It says here that there's no oil. But that's ridiculous, it was changed last week..." She sighed. I'm going to have to get out and have a look. Lock the doors, okay sweetie?" Amane nodded with gulp, watching as her mother climbed out of the car in her cocktail dress, popping bonnet of the car and peering inside, careful not to get any marks on her clothes. Rebecca gasped at the smoke which issued from the motor as she popped the door, carefully unscrewing the water cap. Steam burst forth like a boiled kettle, and she jumped back with a gasp. She also checked the oil, and yes, that too was empty. She was amazed the car lasted as long as it did, before succumbing to overheat and lack of oil.

"What's the status?" Amane leaned over and unlocked the door for her mother, who climbed back into the car with a strange expression on her face. "Mum?"

"It's overheated and there's no oil." Rebecca looked wary. "I don't understand, it was serviced just last week.."

"Mum, these things happen." Amane replied reassuringly. Rebecca shook her head, still frowning.

"Yes, but..." She trailed off, not wanting to frighten her daughter. _They don't do that in a week, unless they've been tampered with..._

"Have you got your mobile on you?" Amane enquired, to which her mother shook her head, swallowing. "O-Oh..."

"Oh is right." Rebecca swallowed. "I'm going to have to go and find a pay phone to get in touch with your father..."

"I'm coming with you." Amane said resolutely. "And so's Ryou."

"Amane-"

"I'm not staying in the car, Mum!" Amane protested. "What if someone bashed the windows in? Then we would be in trouble!"

"No one is going to bash the windows in." But Amane was resolute. "Oh, all _right_." She sighed, rubbing at her eyes. "Ryou, sweetie?" The woman turned in her seat, gently reaching out to shake the boy. "Ryou, wake up."

"Wh-What?" Ryou groaned, rubbing weakly at his eyes. "Are we home?"

"Not exactly." Rebecca bit her lip. "Just get out of the car, all right?"

"Uh, all right." Confused, still half-asleep, Ryou slowly unbuckled himself, and climbed out of the car, leaning against the silver door, a deep yawn almost cracking his jaw. "What's goin' on?"

"Car broke down." Rebecca shut her door, taking Ryou's hand. "Amane, leave them on."

"Aw, Mum." Amane released the hold she had on her shoes. "They're hurting my feet real bad."

"There's glass on the pavement." Rebecca locked the car, before taking a protective hold of her daughters' wrist. "I don't want you walking barefoot."

"Oh, all right." Amane shivered, in the night air, eyes darting self-consciously from side to side. The streets looked empty, lit up by sporadic pools of amber, but the girl was still wary, still kept her white satin purse, which she didn't dare leave in the car, close to her.

"Oh, damn." Rebecca bit her lip, her arm around Ryou's shoulders as she peered down the street. "I can't see any payphones... Can you?"

"Nope." Amane shook her head, giving her mother a look. On her far right, Ryou was pressed into his mothers' side, gazing out around him with a sleepy curiosity. "What about this street?" She pointed to a side street that was about twenty yards ahead of them.

"I wanted to stay on the main road." Rebecca clung tighter to her children, her pace quickening. She would have liked to walk even faster, but Ryou was still stumbling along, half in a dream, and Amane's feet were aching in the shoes she didn't dare remove, broken shards of glass crunching under her feet. "Let's see when we get there..."

"See?" Amane paused at the mouth of the street, and pointed down the badly-lit cavern. "There's a phone." It was just three blocks in, catching the glow of one of the few street lights, shining like a beacon of hope to the three. "C'mon."

"... All right." Rebecca eventually relented, tightening her hold on Amane and Ryou as they started to walk down the dark side street. "Don't you dare let go, Amane Bakura."

"Wouldn't dream of it." She pressed herself into the side of her mother, clutching her purse close to her chest. "It's so quiet..." Amane breathed, peering around through the gloom. _Too quiet._ Her mother thought warily, but kept the notion to herself.

The white-haired trio were a block away from the pay phone when they were struck. It came out of nowhere, really, a sprint from a side-alley, shrouded in darkness, and before Any of them had a chance to react, they were quickly surrounded. Amane screamed, a high cry which pierced the night air, as her purse was ripped from her hands. Torn from her mothers, grasp, she was lifted in the air by a tall, heavyset man, dressed all in black, like the other nine. She kicked at the air desperately, clawing at the mans' arms to let her go, but his shirt was long-sleeved, and before her screams could further disturb the night, a gloved hand was clapped over her mouth.

Ryou was snapped wide-awake by the man who yanked at him roughly, almost dislocating his arm as he was pulled from his desperate mothers' grasp, his arms pinned at his sides, wrapped in a hold so tight he couldn't move an inch. Heart pounding with terror, he managed to focus on his mother, who was struggling with no less than three of the black-suited men. She managed to fight them off, and lunged for the trapped Ryou, but before she could reach the terrified boy, she was knocked to the ground, pinned, by no less than four of the men. Amane's eyes met her brothers – tears already saturated her make-up, staining her cheeks, but Ryou felt more numb, than anything else. He could not completely comprehend what was happening.

"Well well well." It was a sharp voice, cold and cruel, which cut through the muffled sounds of their struggling. A man of average height, with jet-black hair, icy blue eyes and a lip-curling smile that would haunt Ryou forever, had crouched down beside Rebecca, who was forced onto her back, glaring up at the man with an animalistic rage in her eyes. "Rebecca Bakura, is it not? And these must be your lovely children."

She screamed, underneath the hand that muffled her voice, shooting a poisonous glare at the self-assumed ringleader of the gang of attackers.

"Now, now, no need for that." He sounded luxurious, drawn-out in his speech. Ryou's stomach grew cold, and Amane had stopped struggling, paralyzing terror settling in. "This is _most _unfortunate, isn't it?" He gave a mock sigh. "Really, I don't _like_ having to do this... But justice is unavoidable." The man muttered. "Your husband _really_ should have voted not guilty."

Ryou and Amane had no idea, of course, what they were talking about, but comprehension dawned in Rebecca's eyes, and she struggled harder against the males that pinned her, fighting desperately.

"He was warned." He stood up, and gave a motion of his hand, a moments later, the mother and children were roughly carried – or in Rebecca's case, dragged – into the tiny dark alley, where Amane was knocked to the ground. She cried out, in shock, and tried to leap up in an attempt to escape, but she was quickly pinned, one man grasping each arm, while another man held her legs. The skirts of her blue cocktail dress had hiked up in the struggle, and the mans' hands were on her pale thighs. But far from being uncomfortable about the compromising condition he'd placed the young girl in, he looked as though he was relishing in the situation. As he slowly raised his hands, his palms running up her pubescent thighs, Rebecca realised what he was about to do to her daughter, and, overcome with outrage and horrific anger, bit down hard on the hand that smothered her, drawing blood through his glove, and in a moment of superhuman maternal strength, wrenched herself free of her captives. Before she could take two steps, however, she was tacked roughly to the ground, this time by five men, who pinned her tight. Unable to move, even breathing restricted by the intense pressure on her chest, all she could do, like Ryou, was watch in horror as Amane's underwear was yanked down her legs, torn in their effort to be removed, and discarded quickly. She was sobbing, arching her back, and kicking out desperately in an attempt to free herself, but the weak resistance was futile.

Ryou didn't want to look – he closed his eyes and bowed his head, but a firm first under his forced him to raise his gaze once more, and a choked cry from his mother started him in to opening his eyes. He was, after all, only nine. He'd not yet had any sexual education from school or his parents, didn't know what that man who was doing to Amane, who screamed and twisted desperately, her captive mother struggling like a tigress against the five men who held her down. The word "rape" was not yet in his juvenile vocabulary.

After about five minutes, the man had stopped, with a long shudder and a slump. Ryou tried to swallow, his mouth dry, watching as the man hiked his trousers back up, and re-zippered. He kept his hands pressed on her hips, but Amane was no longer struggling. Instead, she lay sobbing on the pavement, in shock and in agony, totally violated. Rebecca tried to stretch out to her daughter, totally overwhelmed, but was still unable to move a centimetre. The wild, insane look in her eyes, the fury at the man who had abused her precious daughter, shook Ryou to the core. That, more than anything else, told Ryou that what he'd just seen was very, very wrong.

"Now now." The blue-eyed man, who had watched the scene with that same, cold smirk on his face, bent down a little so Rebecca could look her in the eye. "Play nice, now." Rebecca's response was struggle more fiercely against the men what pinned her, scratching at any exposed skin she could, writhing and kicking out at them. She landed a couple of painful blows and scratches, but was too overcome to present any hope of freedom. "I _said."_ He gritted his teeth, eyes flashing cold steel. "Play _nice."_ He reiterated the syllable, his jaw set. "And we _might_ let her live." From behind his back, he withdrew a long butchers' knife, and, taking the few lazy steps toward the broken girl, toyed with the threatening blade. He crouched, grabbed a handful of half-ribboned hair, jerking back her head to expose her throat. Eyes unfocused, Amane looked blearily up at the man, unable to comprehend exactly what hovered a few inches from her neck. "Got it?"

Crying now, with helplessness, Rebecca stilled, unable to tear her eyes away from the butchers' knife that was so close to slitting her daughters' throat. He smiled that awful, thin-lipped smile, and stepped away from Amane, Rebecca's trembling form sagging with relief. Ryou watched, as the two men who held Amane's arms stood up, feeling nauseous, the taste of bile burning her tongue. Amane lay sobbing on the pavement, like a limp, broken doll, her dress torn and stained with dirt and a little blood. The man that raped her looped an arm around her waist, pinning her arms and pressing her to his chest as he kneeled in the dark alley pavement, the other wrapped around her chest. He didn't bother trying to muffle the girl; the only sounds that issued from her mouth were broken, ragged sobs.

"Imagine what he will think when he reads the police report." Rebecca's breath stilled in her throat, her heart seeming to stop beating as the men returned from the shadows with cruel-looking crowbars in their hands. "To learn that not only were his children murdered, but enjoyed the last few moments of their short lives in _absolute_ agony..."

"_NO!"_ Rebecca tore her head away from the hand that covered her, as the three men, the blue-eyed leader who had been handed a crowbar, and the other two who wielded the same metal tool, rounded on Ryou. His eyes widened, and he was released by the heavyset man who held, tumbling rather unceremoniously to the ground. Before he could even look up, however, the blue-eyed man landed a bone-shattering strike hard down on Ryou's elbow. Ryou screamed, and doubled over, his good hand clutching at his broken arm. Oh, what _pain!_ He had fractured his arm, two years ago after a tree-climbing accident with his sister, but those vague memories of pain were _nothing_ like this!

Before Ryou had a chance to move, the another crowbar came down again, this time across his back. Ryou screamed again, as two ribs were cracked, curling up into a tiny ball, pressed as close as he could to the icy pavement. Rebecca could only watch in absolute terror, as the three men continued to horrifically beat her youngest child, Ryou's choked screams punctuated by too-regular dull _thuds_. Amane was still, eyes still unfocused. If she heard Ryou's screams, she gave no indication of comprehension. She had stopped crying, but the silence seemed even worse than the sobs.

"Stop." The blue-eyed man raised his hand, and immediately, his cronies ceased the horrendous attack on the young boy. Ryou lay on his side, eyes half-open, and breathing shallow. He couldn't move an inch, feeling as though his entire skinny frame had been dashed to pieces. Rebecca's eyes darted, from her battered, bloodied son to her broken daughter, and she slumped, utterly defeated. Despite her best efforts, her precious children lay defeated on the ground, broken and dying.

Someone had put their foot on Ryou's back, pinning him, face-down on the pavement. Oh, the incredible _pain_, in not just his broken arm, but in his chest, where half of his ribs were cracked, the rented skin, where the hooks of the crowbar had torn into his flesh, his head, where nasty bow caught him near the temple, blood trickling down his face...

His vision blurred, Ryou tried to focus on his mother. The woman was absolutely beside herself, staring first at Amane, then Ryou. She longed to stretch out and hold them, even whisper a few words of maternal comfort, but she was so constricted, she could barely breathe. She felt numb, unable to feel any of the tight, cruel hands on her, until a low chuckle in her ear made her jump.

"You didn't think_ you_ would get off now, did you?" Rebecca looked at the man with terrified eyes, freezing completely as she felt a gloved hand snake up the inside of her thigh. "Some may say that watching your children die a slow, painful death before you is horror enough, but Yaten could do with a little more... justice, don't you think?" Rebecca stopped breathing as she felt that same hand grab at her knickers, her trembling increasing. She shook her head, paralyzed with fear. "Just a final blow." He sounded almost soothing, and would, if were it not for the cold, mocking tone in his voice. "He wouldn't even be the last one to fuck his wife-"

Rebecca's muffled scream was what snapped Amane into action. She elbowed the man who clutched her, right in his satiated groin, and he howled in agony, doubling up and clutching himself in pain. Ryou's groaned, watching blearily as Amane struggled on her hands and knees, before shakily getting to wobbling feet. But she was far from capable of walking, and before she could move anyway, the ringleader lunged for her, and snatched, Amane half-carried, half-dragged over to her mother. The woman had her teeth gritted, refusing to scream, or cry out in pain, despite the vicious attack she bore. Amane closed her eyes, refused to look at her mother in such a state, and Ryou weakly stretched an arm out to Rebecca, staring at her gritted teeth, and closed eyes.

"_NO!"_ Amane's scream rocked the scene, and Rebecca looked up in shock, to see the butchers' knife withdrawn once more. Ryou looked blearily up at his sister, refusing to believe what he saw, his breath dying in his throat. The black-haired man easily slammed the knife into Amane's chest, right where her heart would be, twisting the blade a little, before wrenching it out. The white-haired girl let out a single, choked cry, blood quickly blossoming a deep purple across and down her dress. She shuddered, and then fell still, glassy eyes still open, Ryou and Rebecca watching in horror as she was dropped carelessly to the sidewalk like an empty can. The body fell with a dull _thud_, Amane's vacant face turned towards Rebecca, her head less than a foot from her mothers'.

Ryou felt as though the earth was spinning violently beneath him. He heard nothing, but a slight ringing in his ears, completely numb as he stared through half-opened eyes, at the body of his elder sister, the girl he adored, admired, emulated, _loved_...

Rebecca had pressed her face into the concrete and was sobbing hopelessly. Her fight and strength were totally gone. She gave no recognition of the thickset man shuddering against her, had forgotten about the bruised and battered boy who lay, half-alive, beside her.

They killed her daughter. Her precious Amane, her first child, her little girl, was _gone_. Ryou himself wanted to cry, wanted to feel hot tears wet his icy cheeks, but he felt as dry inside as a desert. It was a hollow sensation that had enveloped him, not a sense of grief.

"Sad." The blue-eyed man mused. "I had planned more games, but I get the impression that you do not want to play..." Rebecca sobbed hopelessly, sapped of all will and hope. "Ah, well." Ryou's breathing quickened, and he somehow found the strength to lift his head, eyes widening as the ringleader grabbed at his mothers' hair, forcing her head back. He opened his mouth to scream, his lungs expelling air, but all that came out was a hoarse gasp. He closed his eyes at the actual slitting of his mothers throat, which was more of a jagged slash, opening them again at the sound of her voice. She let out a shirt gasp as her mouth was finally free, and Rebecca swivelled her eyes to her bloodied son, whose doe-brown eyes were brimming with the utmost terror.

"Ry..." She didn't even get to finish his name, before her eyes rolled in her head, which thudded against the pavement, her body entirely still. A high whimper trilled in Ryou's throat, and he looked away from his mother and sister, shaking so hard his teeth chattered.

"Just one left." The man sneered as he stepped towards Ryou. The others all let go to Rebecca's body, and stood up. They circled Ryou, who had once more pressed his face into the concrete, the urge to vomit worse than ever.

This was it. They were going to kill him, like they killed his mother and sister. It had felt like a nightmare, a shifting puzzle of colours and sounds. This wasn't really happening... It _couldn't._

At that moment, Ryou was on the end of a pure miracle. Noticing the sound of scuffling, a cluster of shadowy forms in a dark alley, and an abandoned purse in the street, an anxious passer-by had hurriedly called the police, and they had cut their sirens as they entered the darkened side street. The sound of the car just reached the ears of the gang of men, and as it grew louder, also slowing, eyes widened with fright.

"Shit! Bail!" The leader demanded. "Take the weapons! We don't want prints!" He was running as he talked, making his way down the tiny back alley, and through the broken door of an abandoned warehouse. The other men followed the man, who disappeared through the broken-down old building, and would most likely maze their way through the back alleys and dark side-streets, never to be seen again.

Silence. Ryou sighed, his breathing still ragged and anxious. He kept his face pressed into the stone, however, his trembling as violent as ever. _This is a nightmare. It to be a nightmare... Oh God..._

"Holy shit, they were right!"

"Oh Jesus, three bodies."

"All right, call HQ and get as many units as we can to search the area. The attackers can't have gone far."

"Right!"

The words hazed in and out. Like a radio, not quite on the right frequency. Ryou was so cold... despite the body-wide throbbing agony, Ryou felt so tired, so sleepy, so...

"Christ! Get a medic, the boys' still alive!"

* * *

"Yaten Bakura?"

The man blinked at the tone of the mans' voice on the phone.

"Yes?" Beside him, one of his colleagues spoke animatedly to the male on her right. They sat on an array of comfortable-yet-stylish couches of red plush, a boxy white coffee table littered with empty glasses in the middle. It was almost three in the morning, and they were discussing returning to their houses and hotel rooms. Yaten, especially, was growing conscious of his wife and children at home – it wasn't responsible of him to be out so late, despite his cause for celebration.

"My name is Linda Harvey... I'm a constable at Scotland Yard, and-"

"_What?_" The sharp tone in Yaten's voice made the rest of the party pause in mid-conversation. "S-Scotland Yard? Wh-What do you want?"

"I'm not sure if I should be telling you this over the phone." There was a definite shade of uncertainty in Linda's voice, which made something in Yatens' stomach run cold. His mind flashed with images of horror and bloodshed.

"Rebecca and the children." His voice was hoarse. "God, Please tell me they're all right..."

"Ryou is at the Royal London Hospital in a critical condition." At the news, Yaten had frozen, his features pulled into one of horror, the others staring at him for answers. "There... There was a random attack."

"Oh _God."_ His free hand went to his head, raking through his hair. "A-And Rebecca? Amane? Are they all right?" He had stood up, and was making towards the exit of the nightclub. Two of his workmates, John and Shamir, followed him urgently.

"I'm so sorry, but they were killed at the scene..." It was all Yaten heard before the phone slipped lax from his fingers, clattering to the floor. Shouting in surprise, the two men had seized a hold of his elbows as Yaten's knees collapsed, managing to keep him upright. He felt as though the earth was spinning rapidly around him. He couldn't see or hear a thing. His pulse thudded deeper than a drum in his ears, and he was only vaguely aware of the people that surrounded him. It took some time for him to realise that words were coming out of his mouth – well, words were a stretch. They were more like srange, unknown _sounds_. One coherent thought managed to thread its way through his violently turbulent mind.

_How could this happen?_

* * *

_Fuzzy..._

The first thing that ran through Ryou's mind was his strange numbness. The second was recognition of a low, steady beeping beside him. The third was a dry, racked sobbing at his side.

Ryou groaned. His eyes felt ridiculously heavy, as though weights had been placed on them, but with considerable effort, he managed to crack open his eyes. His vision blurred, mind swimming, Ryou groaned again, head lolling to his left. He was able to vaguely make out the figure of his father, who was sobbing uncontrollably into his hands.

"D-Dad?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, an echo of his light, regular cadence, but it was enough. Yaten lifted his head in shock, wiping at his eyes to see Ryou gazing blearily towards him.

"R-Ryou..." His hands shaking, he gently touched Ryou's face. The nine-year-old closed his eyes again, his head whirling. "Oh God... Oh Jesus..." Too afraid to embrace the little broken figure, Yaten instead stroked Ryou's hair, his forehead lightly against the boys' bony shoulder.

"What... What's happening?" The mattress he lay on was firm, nowhere near as soft or comforting as his mattress at home, and the sheets almost crackled with starch. "Where... Am I..."

"Shhh, don't talk son." Yaten lifted his head, struggling to talk in complete sentences. "Just relax."

"... Mum." Ryou murmured weakly, making Yaten freeze. "I... Want Mum..."

"N-Not right now." The man breathed, shaking with uncontrollable grief. He was about to go on when the door creaked open, a young nurse entering the room.

"Oh, good, you're awake." She smiled at Ryou. "How are you feeling?"

"... Funny." Ryou said truthfully. His mind was still turbulent, the memories still repressed.

"That would be the morphine." Her voice was gentle. "You're on a heavy dose of drugs to numb the pain."

"... Pain?" Ryou frowned. "Why..." His father seized his hand, one finger gently stroking his knuckles.

"... I'll send the child therapist around to talk to him shortly." She addressed Yaten. "He's clearly still in shock." The man nodded dumbly, his eyes never leaving Ryou. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"... No, I-I.. I'm fine." Yaten lied. Truth was, he was more devastated than he had ever been before, but what else could he say, especially in front of a dazed and confused Ryou?

"Dad..." Ryou mumbled. "What's the time?" It was an odd question, and Ryou surprised himself by asking it, but it was an odd curiosity that drove him to.

"It's almost three in the afternoon." Yaten said softly, tears still leaking from his eyes. His red-rimmed glasses rested on the bedside table. "You've been asleep for a long time."

"... Am I... In hospital?" Ryou's eyes were fully open, and he was able to gauge his surroundings.

"Yes, son, you are." His voice shook, his facade crumbling. "Just relax, or you'll overexert yourself."

"Amane." Ryou looked dead into his fathers' eyes. "Where... is she?"

"She's... with your mother." Yaten said softly, his hands on Ryou's hair again. "Just relax and try to get some more sleep." But Ryou's features tightened into a frown. Something flashed through his mind...

A scream...

"Where are they?" Ryou repeated, his voice a little louder.

Being slammed onto the pavement...

"Ryou..." Yaten said hopelessly.

Being surrounded by tall figures in black...

Ryou pressed his hands to his head, starting to shake.

His sister being...

"Where _are_ they?" Ryou repeated, his breathing quickening.

The _blood_.

"Oh _God!"_ Ryou burst out, sitting up in bed. Yaten tried to take his sons' arms, but Ryou wrenched himself free, starting to hyperventilate. "Th-Th-They..."

"Ryou, please." Yaten tried to console his son again, but the boy pushed him away once more, and kicked and scrabbled desperately at the sheets. "You-"

"N-No!" Ryou shouted, and with a swift yank, the tube in his arm, feeding him precious morphine to keep the agony at bay, was wrenched free. Yaten stood up as Ryou got out of the bed, the boy staggering on wobbly legs as he tried to run. He felt sick, his heart pounding and breathing so erratic barely any air made it to his lungs. Ryou made his way out of the room, Yaten hot on his heels.

"Ryou!" The man pleaded, his nerves shot to pieces. "Please..."

"They're _dead."_ Ryou gripped a railing that ran along the wall, knees weak. "They're..."

"I-I'm sorry." Yaten engulfed his fragile son in a warm embrace, trying to keep his sobs at bay. Ryou's grip tightened on the railing, feeling as though he were about to throw up. He kept his eyes open, in an attempt to stop the horrible images from flashing through his mind, darkness and pavement and exposed skin and blood, so much blood...

"What on earth is going on?" The young nurse entered the otherwise empty corridor, the child therapist in tow.

"He remembers." Yaten sobbed, his face buried in Ryou's hair. "Oh God..." He tightened his hold on Ryou, the boy staring numbly at the wall.

"Shit." The therapist muttered on her breath, before approaching Ryou. "Hello, Ryou." She said in the softest, most pleasant voice she could muster. "My name is Andrea. You have to go back to your room, sweetie." She winced, looking down at Ryou's bleeding arm. "Can you do that for me?"

"... Th-Th-They said... Th-they said they w-wouldn't k-kill her." Ryou choked out, the numbness wracking his body more from shock that intense drugs. "Th-They-"

"All right, Ryou." Yaten said softly, and took his wrists. With some effort, he managed to prise Ryou free from the railing, and the small boy slumped to the ground, eyes half-lidded. "Come on." He picked up the shaking child, and carried him the short distance to the hospital room, where he was set down on the bed softly. With a low moan, Ryou buried his head in his knees, curling into a tight ball, arms wrapped around his legs.

"Oh, the poor thing." The nurse sounded near tears as she approached the boy. "And he's pulled out his drip..." She examined the needle with concern. "It's not broken, thank goodness... I'll go and get a replacement." She was glad to leave the room, the other three sitting in silence. Andrea had taken a chair next to the bed, where Ryou sat, Yaten desperately trying to comfort him while keeping his composure.

"Maybe this isn't the best time yet." Yaten suggested, Ryou shaking violently in his arms. "Maybe we should... Wait."

"I just want to talk to him." Andrea said softly. "Ryou, is there anything you want to ask?" She addressed the boy now, fully expecting to get no reply. After almost a full minute, however, Ryou lifted his head, dry eyes unfocused.

"Wh-what did they do to them?" He breathed, curled into Yaten's side. "T-To Mum and Amane... Wh-what did they do?"

"... Oh." Andrea swallowed, and looked Yaten in the eye, asking for permission. Yaten gave the barest incline of his head. "Ryou... What they did was..." _How_ do you explain rape to a nine-year-old? "Something that adults do to each other sometimes. It's not supposed to hurt, but it can."

"... Amane's not a grown-up." Ryou protested, remembering the way she struggled and sobbed weakly against her captors. At his side, Yaten tried to muffle his sobs.

"I know, sweetie." Andrea said gently. "That's partly what makes this all so scary." The nurse had returned, holding a fresh needle, as well as a bad of clear liquid, on a metal tray. "I'm going to come back later, all right?" Ryou nodded, and was wordless as the woman left with a small wave and a smile.

"Can I get you to hold out your arm?" Ryou obeyed wordlessly, half-watching as the wound was cleaned and dressed. He didn't react as the needle was inserted into his other arm and taped to a secure seal.

"Wh-What's in the other bag?" Yaten asked in a wobbly voice.

"It's a sedative." She reported. "Nothing harmful, just something to keep him more relaxed. He's very badly injured, remember. The doctor wants him immobile in bed."

"... All right." He nodded. "Y-You heard her, Ryou. Hop back into bed now." With some careful manoeuvring, Yaten managed to tuck Ryou beneath the sheets, Ryou lying on his side, staring at the wall. He wanted to cry, wanted to sob hopelessly and try and let out some of that unbelievably consuming grief, but inside, he felt as dry as a bone.

"She's for the cops." The nurse said presently, making a note on a chart. "All she's interested in is getting any I.D on the attackers. You need to get in touch with a real expert."

"I-I will." Yaten said weakly. Ryou stared blearily at nothing, the feeling of sleepiness increasing.

"You need to sleep." She hung the clipboard on the back of the bed. "I'll organise a stretcher to be brought in."

"I can't sleep." Yaten said. "I just... God, when I think about it... Who would _do_ this? Who would hurt them? Wh-who could... She was a little _girl_..." He broke down, head in his hands. "And _Rebecca_..." Taking pity on the broken man, the nurse took the plastic chair next to him, one hand on his shoulder. "Th-They just... slit her throat..."

"It's horrible." The nurse agreed, not knowing quite what to say or do. "It's a horrible, bloody murder, but I'm sure whoever did this will be brought to justice. It's been on the news all day. The public will be screaming for blood over something like this."

Ryou closed his eyes, the drowsiness slowly overcoming him. He welcomed sleep, a sweet release from the horrible images that played over and over in his mind, the screams in his ears, and sickening feeling of grief and loss overwhelming him, a smooth, if drugged slumber, where he could forget that he had just witnessed the brutal rape and murder of his beloved mother and sister.

But little did he know, the nightmare had just begun.

* * *

Yes, I know this is a long chapter. They wont all be like this, I swear. I just wanted to get the evilness out of the way T.T

I feel unclean.

R&R?


End file.
